


The Tower

by Tayathestrange



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: 2015 Merlin Horror Fest, Haunted Houses, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Twisted Fairytale, fairytale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayathestrange/pseuds/Tayathestrange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his time comes to choose a quest to prove his value as a knight and the potential to be a future leader Arthur's decision falls on the most appealing one: "You must find the Lost Kingdom and save the cursed princess, who has been sleeping in the highest tower while the land died below her." But when he finally reaches his destination, the legend turns into a lie and something much more dangerous than a princess to be kissed awaits in the ruins of the forgotten lands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tower

**Author's Note:**

> This work was created for the "Merlin Horror Fest 2015" ([on LJ](http://merlin-horror.livejournal.com/)). Thanks a lot to the admins who made this challenge possible.
> 
> I'm also sorry that I'm posting the story so late. Something went wrong with the first posting and I didn't have the energy to correct it since the last few weeks were really not my best time. This is far from what I wanted and I'll come back and edit the story again to change it into something I'm actually proud of. But I still like the idea and the ending.
> 
> I hope you can enjoy it too and Happy Halloween (though it comes a bit late)!

Arthur was about to drag his boot out of a swamp-hole when the thought first occured to him: going on this quest alone might have been not the best idea. No, actually, it might have been quite stupid. But there was nothing he could do now but to go on.  
About a week ago he had been requiered to choose a final quest before he could be knighted officially and crowned Prince of Camelot. And since it had been the oldest and most honorable task between all those to choose, finding a forgotten kingdom and saving it by lifting a curse which had befallen its princess had seemed perfekt for a man of his status. If it hadn't been for...

"By the gods, who would've thought it'd be so hard to find a lost kingdom!"

With a scream of frustration he whirled his sword in a whide arc over his head and flung it with all his anger infused strenght. There was a last metal flash, then it disappeared into the bushes which were growing nice and thick, its branches decorated with ripe berries. When his eyes fell upon the appealing fruit his boot and the mud ceased to be an issue. Since his supplies had run out yesterday morning and the hunter's luck was not on his side the sight worked like a charm. The boot made a disgusting sound when it finally left its muddy grave after a few more enthusiastic attempts and the prince stumbled, finally free on stable ground, towards the first food in hours. The sweet flavour exploded in his mouth and the fruit-flesh filled his rumbling stomach making him long for more and so some time went until he put an end to his feast. Red juice was covering his mouth and hands, letting it appear like blood dribbling down his fingers. Still suckling the digits Arthur started to work his way through the bushery not caring for the scratches it gave him.

"So, where's my sword? Must've ended up somewhere- oh-"

Suddenly stepping out into the warm evening sun the trees disappearing on both sides had him very disoriented. By sheer luck he had found his way out of that forrest. His dirty boots were standing on a meadow of soft long grass, almost feeling like he was walking on cushions. A few meters in front of him a metallic shimmer told him where to find the blade. But neither the comfortable seeming ground nor the prospect of finding his weapon caught his attention. The fairy-tale castle framed by a majestic mountain did.

"I found it..." he whispered at first, not trusting to believe his eyes. But when he took a step closer and the image did not disappear Arthur couldn't hold back a triumphatic shout followed by almost mad laughter.

"I found the lost castle!" he shouted, opening his arms at the sight of his goal. Filled with new energy he grabbed his sword and started moving towards the breathtaking building. To its bottom he crossed several ruins which looked like they could've been peasant houses. Remains of little shacks but also more strongly buildt with straw-roofs and clay walls seemed to have merged with the ground a long time ago. The more miraculous was the appearance of the castle itsself. Yes, it was overgrown by greenery here and there, and a hedge of thorns had engulved its walls and the gates so completely that the original structure was impossible to make out. But the building was mostly in tact. The towers hadn't crumbled and even the statue's features were still recognizable.

Upon reaching the main-gate he encountered a problem. The hedge was thick, its thorns long enough to inflict serious wounds. He tried to pry them from the iron bar by hand but if it hadn't been for his leather gloves his fingers and palms would have come away bloody and bruised. He began searching the walls for a way to climb up but even the stone had cracked in several places under the pure weight of overgrowth. Then he spotted something. Further to the west a few blocks had crumbled to the ground, strongly withered under the elements. It had ripped a hole into the hedge though it must have happened some time ago since it had already grown back, covering the gap. 

"Still, thin enough to get through." Arthur mumbled, climbing over the broken stone until he was close enough to reach his sword to the thorny arms. Hacking through them was not as easy as he had thought. They were strong and sturdy, giving him a hard time until he could finally see the first patches of the building behind. When he broke the last branches and pressed through he almost gouged an eye out.  
The inner yard was not as big as he first thought. There was not much space to train knights and soldiers. The wide staircase leading towards the iron-clad entrance and the impressive lion-statues framing it indicated it to be a place rather for reception than for the building of strenght and ability.

While crossing the cracked flagstones Arthur held his eyes trained on the windows in order to make out any movements. He was still sure that he had found what he was looking for but the state of the place indicated that it hadn't been abandoned for hundreds of years but was still taken care of somehow. The entrance door was not only framed by iron enhancements but also made of thick, dark trunks which distributed a hostile atmosphere. Lying his gloved hands against the rough surface his brain was already giong over the possibilities of getting inside when he gave the doors an unmotivated push and they started moving. The suprise almost send him back down the few steps. Turning his head involuntarily his eyes started scanning the area as if he could find someone standing behind him causing the doors to move. Of course there was nobody in sight. But even when he pushed the heavy wood to widen the opening and finally stepped inside the cold darkness he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

When the doors fell shut the noise echoed through the long and empty hallway in front of him and seemed to travel further through rooms and chambers filling every nook and cranny. It felt like he had awoken a beast that had been sleeping soundly for years. And if that was the case it was probably pretty pissed right now.  
Though the castle hadn't fallen to ruins yet the prince could make out a thin layer of dust covering the ornate carpet under his feet as well as vases and tapestries, which decorated almost every inch of stone. Cobwebs worked as curtains, shutting out most of the evening light that tried to get in through the windows. Since this part of the castle was now in the shadows it was hard to make out details. The entrance hall was not spacious - only wide enough to hold twenty people at most - and three corridors let from it. Looking straight ahead he could make out a staircase at the end which was brightned by the setting sun shining its light through a coloured window at the top. The legend told that the sleeping princess could be found in the highest tower. Thus up and towards the light seemed the best option to finally finish what he started.

The dusty portraits lining the walls were mostly indistinguishable. Their colourful surfaces were caked with dirt of the centuries. Some lay completely broken on the floor, their frames split at the corners, their faces ripped. Only a few could still be recognized. Serious looking men and women casted their eyes on him while he walked down the main-corridor, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.  
The stairs let up in a flat arch to Arthur's left and right when he reached the next hall. They connected at their highest point with a gallery leading to the first floor. Between them another painting was presented, its dimensions surpassing the others. Arthur put his hands on the dusty surface and started to rub off the dirt. The first thing to be revealed was a shoulder, a big dark hand lying on it. Then a neck covered by delicate yellow lace. Arthur reached higher, finally finding a face. Round in form with rosy cheeks it looked softly down on him with brown eyes. Framed by dark-brown curls hanging loose from a knot in her neck it felt almost alive. She couldn't have been older than fourteen when the picture was painted. After dusting off two other faces behind her the prince was sure that this could only be the royal family. The princess was lovely but he hoped the curse had befallen the kingdom a few years after the portrait was finished. He was not keen on such a young bride.

Striding upstairs Arthur passed many rooms. Chambers for the servants, a library, guest chambers and most of them appeared empty. For a castle this size that was rather strange. Where had everyone gone? Roality, the staff, the guests? Maybe they fled from the curse. To make things worse Arthur was convinced to hear whispers gliding through the stale air. There was no wind. He turned his head again and again to catch moving shadows he saw from the corner of his eye, but they were gone before he could even begin to focus. Sometimes a rustling seemed to follow him. Like a curtain moving from the wind, or parchment being shuffled around. But it could be heard only for a moment, making it impossible to decide what it was and where it came from.

And then he saw it.

The prince was just approaching a door he believed would lead him further towards the high tower he had seen from outside when a figure rose from the twilight which seemd to reign these halls. It took on the form of a man. Arms and legs and a head, definitely, being joined by a broad torso. Arthur was not sure if he saw it breathing. He was blinking rapidly now, but this was no illusion. The figure appeared to be slumping. Its body was not standing straight or attentive as someone ready for a fight. When he was being honest, the closer he got the more it appeared to be leaning on the wall. As if it had been too tired to stand any longer.  
When Arthur was only a few steps away he was finally able to make out details. It was a guard, fully clad in armour. Even the face was hidden by the helmet. His gauntlet was curled loosly around a lance which was pointing at Arthur himself. But not in an attempt to attack. The man's hand was hanging lifeless on his side unable to hold up the weapon. Since the guy didn't stirr Arthur found his courage to step even closer until he was right in front of the body. The man was not breathing, not moving at all. He dared to touch the breast plate. Maybe it was empty he mused while raising his hand further, grabbing the visor. 

It was not empty.

Dark holes drilled into pale bone stared back at him when he lifted the protective gear. Suprised he tugged his hand away like the metal had become seeringly hot for a moment. Taking a step back involuntarily he caught his stuttering breath. He was not afraid of the dead, he knew that. But this felt cruel. Propped up like a guard that had fallen asleep this man had died and rotted in the gear he had once worn with pride. Arthur felt anger rise in his chest but then one of the gauntlets slipped from its hand clattering to the stone-floor, leaving bony fingers unprotected. The prince jumped backwards, heart racing in his chest. Arthur's whole body started to shake from shock and disgust. Whiping the hair out of his eyes he strode passed it without another glance.  
Unfortunatly the knight was not the only one. Searching the rooms for hints on the kingdom's history he found more. Other guards who had died fulfilling their duty, corpses in private rooms lying on the floor or sitting in chairs, books or parchments on their legs, like they had just fallen asleep. Forever. It felt like walking through a mockery of a graveyard where the dead weren't buried but kept as decoration.  
The prince was only ripped from the horrid thoughts when he realised that he had ended up in the king's study. He could have missed it altogether since the room wasn't exceptionally big or handsomely furnished. Most walls were covered by shelfs loaded with tombs and parchment-rolls giving it the appearance of a small library. He didn't dare touch the books and documents in fear they would crumble under his fingers. The only part of the walls free from knowledge was a corner to his left. Instead it was decorated with a green tapestry that seemed to show a flying doe framed by ornaments of rose-blossoms. A desk had been placed at the only window, its surface covered with paper so worn and bleached there was no information to gather from it. Arthur started to shuffle through them. Some broke directly under his fingers. An inkwell rolled over the edge of the desk when he pushed it over by accident. It was caught by the carpet, not breaking but also not spilling, its contents having long dryed out. He was about to give up when he noticed an open drawer attached to the tabletop. Finding that the documents inside were still readable Arthur started to flip through the pages. They were letters received by the king from his brother. The scibbled lines didn't tell him much at first but over the years of correspondance the sibling went from stating his happiness and sending congratulations on the successes of his brother's rule to voicing concerns over the king's well-being. The further he got through the pile the greater the sorrows got until the words turned and twisted into statements of disappointment and disgust. 

_You have let this bane into your kingdom. You have been blind to the consequences. And your people have to pay.'_

_I can not call you brother anymore now that I know of the foul deed you have done. You deserve what will come to you. I only fear for the life of my sister-in-law and my niese, my dear Guinevere._

_Their blood is on your hands, never forget that._

Sighing Arthur took a step back and sunk into a chair, its padding havin long been eaten away by bugs of all kinds. It creaked uncomfortably, the sound much to loud for the quietness around him. For a moment he thought it would break but then the wood and metal settled and held. Rubbing one of his leather-clad hands over his tired face Arthur set the letters on the table trying to make any sense of what he had found in this lost kingdom. It was definitly not what he expected though he didn't remember what he pictured when he had started this quest. He let his eyes fly to one side, out of the partly broken window, scanning the woodland and peaceful hills which were slowly sinking into the shadows while the sun set behind them. Though the situation seemed a bit hopeless it was not like Arthur to just give up. He would find her and fulfill his duty. But in these very moments weariness started to grow inside his limbs.

The prince rested for several minute, trusting the quietness to close his lids and drift off for a while. At first he thought he was dreaming when he saw the fabric of the tapestry move from the corner of his eye. He was just waking up, the dizziness blurring his view. Then the sound of stone grinding against stone hit his ears. Ripping him from the lingering threads of sleep it made his skin crawl and his toes curl when he had to witness how the colourful fabric started to swing more violently. He noticed a growing slit in the stone next to it and the wall started moving.

"What?" it escaped him. 

Grabbing his sword in hand Arthur sneaked around the desk, trying to get closer. The opening in the stone-blocks had become wider when he reached a shelf close to the wall. Hiding behind it his eyes scanned the darkness. Something was moving in the shadows. Light fell on a pale hand spread over the inner surface, pushing the hidden door fully open. Then a figure emerged. Wrapped in a cloak of rough wool its face was hidden by a hood. It walked into the room without scanning it, passing Arthur who was covered in the shadows of the sinking sun. The stranger had yet to notice him as he strode through the room with intend to reach the desk. But Arthur didn't let him get that far. With a few quiet steps he was behind him wrapping an arm around the thin frame. Holding the body by its arms and chest the prince raised his sword to the stranger's throat.  
A surprised yelp escaped from the hood that definitely belonged to a boy. He started struggling but his thin arms were no match for the prince. With a few practiced movements he turned him around and pushed his body back against the table. Sword-tip still raised to the shadowed face Arthur ripped the hood from the boy's head. The next moment clear blue eyes stared at him like a deer's at the end of his crossbow. The boy had his hands raised in surrender while his mouth loosly formed around a quiet 'o'. 

"You don't have to be afraid. I don't want to hurt you." Arthur said calmly. 

His opposite seemed to relax a little but his gaze fell to the steel two centimetres from his long straight nose.

"Excuse me if I don't believe you." he said, failing to conceal a nervous shiver in his voice. 

Suddenly Arthur felt ridiculous, threatning a defenseless boy while being clad in armour.

"Alright." the prince cleared his throat. "I'm going to take my sword down but don't do anything you'll regret later."

The stranger held his hands a bit higher, shaking his head and he lowered the weapon.

"I didn't expect to meet anybody in a place like this. Who are you and what are you doing here?" 

"My name is Merlin and I just needed a place to stay." the boy responded, not giving up a lot of information. 

The prince let out a gust of air, almost laughing.

"Are there more?"

"More?"

"More of you."

The boy shook his head slowly, his eyes not straying from Arthur's.

"No. It's just me."

Arthur nodded, looking him up and down. 

"I could need a place to rest. Would you show me where you are staying?"

* * *

The ghost that was only a boy in the end let him through the secret passage he had come from after he retrieved a candle from somewhere in the dark. The light was illuminating the ink-black tunnel, revealing it's confining dimensions. While his guide could walk upright Arthur had to crouch slightly and also hold his broader shoulders sightways to not crash into the stone with his shoulder-pieces. He followed quietly while shoving cobwebs out of the way, breathing as shallow as he could to avoid pumping his lungs full of dust.  
It seemed like an enternity while he was focusing on the figure in front of him, just a shadow in the sparse illumination when the boy finally came to a halt and felt the wall to his left. Finding what he was looking for he blew out the candle leaving them in pitch-black. Then the wall opened just like the last one closed, letting a small ray oft soft light into the passage.

"Come." he whispered, shoving the door comepletely open and holding it for Arthur. The prince hesitated for a second, unsure if he could trust this stranger enough to turn his back on him, but before a decision could form in his mind a thin hand grab his wrist and pulled him out into the room.

"Did you want grow roots in there, or what?" came the question but he didn't answer that, to busy taking in his surroundings. The small room that he half expected to be a dungeon or some kind of torture-chamber, with surfaces stained dark red, was turning out to be a kitchen. It was small and appeared to be in slightly better condition than the rest of the castle. Nothing of the furniture was broken, the surfaces and remaining pots were clean, not even rusty and a fire in the hearth made it seem almost cozy.  
Arthur heard the stone-grinding sound from the hidden door sliding back into the wall when something touched his back. He jerked away pointing his swordtip directly into the boys white face again. He didn't seem frightned, though he was backing away. His hands held up, as if to show that he had no bad intentions his features expressed slight suprise and underlying hurt.

"Hey, it's alright. We are safe here." His voice was soft, calming Arthur almost instantly.

"Sorry." the prince mumbled, feeling silly. He sheathed the blade and took his gloves off, stuffing them into his belt in a causual gesture. "What is this place?"

"It's the castle-kitchen."

Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I can see that. But why did you bring me here?" He swung his hand in a circle until it pointed at a pile of cloth and straw on the floor. It appeared to be a makeshift bed. "Do you live here?" he asked incredulously.

The boy cast his eyes down. He felt obviously ashamed.

"Well, I have nowhere else to go and nobody has ever tried to chase me out of here." he answered, his voice taking on a defiant note. Arthur felt a peng in his chest. It hadn't been his intention to offend him.

"No, no, I mean...uhm...how did you even get in here? If I hadn't had my sword I'd be dead in that hedge by now."

His opposite glanced at him and shrugged, a small smile growing on the pink lips.

"Oh, you know, when you come from the mountain-side it's not that thick. It's easy to find a hole to slip through."

Upon hearing the explanation Arthur groaned and stumbled backwards against a cupboard. Letting his legs give out he slumbed down. He could have just walked around.

"Well..." the prince began, struggling to arrange his thoughts. "Anyways, aren't you scared? With all those corpses lying around?"

The boy chuckled and went to get them both a cup of sider. Arthur remembred passing apple-trees that were lining the edge of the forest.

"Thank you." He took the cup gratefully. 

Merlin sat down in front of him. 

"I'm not scared of a few skeletons. I banned them from the kitchen but otherwise I don't care."

The prince put the cup down and took another look around. His eyes settled on the entrance door which was bolted shut. 

"So, what are you afraid of?"

The boy didn't answer, his hands flexing in his lap. 

"Why did you come here, exactly?" he finally asked.

"I'm on a quest to become a knight. I came to save the sleeping princess" he answered truthfully but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had missed something.

The boy nodded and stood up.

"I bet you think you have to get to the highest tower and just kiss the girl from the protraits awake."

"This is how the legend states it."

"And it didn't appear to you once that there'd been others who attempted the same?" Merlin asked, clearly thinking Arthur a bit dumb.

"Of course I've thought..." he stopped. There was something in Merlin's eyes, in his voice that told him that his question didn't have to be answered. Arthur stuttered and silence fell over the room.

"She has not been saved." the prince finally said, his mouth dry.

"No." came the short response. The boy was now crouching down before the hearth. By stabbing in between the crackling wood with the poker he fueled it enough to let the flames grow. To create more heat. More light to fall over his sharp features and show deep creases between his eyebrows. "I don't even think she's ever been asleep anywhere, waiting for a saviour."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, all you know is a legend and a quest, so you come here. But you have no idea of the truth."

"Thruth..."

"Yes. The village I came from isn't to far from here. All of us knew the story of the cursed maiden. Half of my friends dreamed to marry her and get wealthy. But it was just child's play. We'd never go near this place."

"An why's that?" Arthur inquiered, being hooked by Merlin's growing aggitation.

"Because when people come here, they never return. My parents told me of a man who found shelter in their home before I was born. He was clad in armour, just like you. Telling them what you told me. And then they never heard of him again."

The prince had kept quiet until now. Not even once he had thought of reaching his destination to find out that the deed had already been done or that this quest could be a lie. But then the boy's words started to sound like an old wife's tale. He waved his hand dismissingly.

"Why should you hear of him? He could've just taken another route home."

Merlin's face darkned in annoyance.

"They had the same thought, but weeks later a group of men came looking for him. He had never returned to his kingdom, with or without a princess. And he didn't remain the only one."

No smart response came to Arthur this time. Merlin's voice had changed, had lowered into a very earnest tune with no place for mockery. Arthur's gaze focused on the boy's features while he stood up to grab something from a stone-pod. The next second an apple nearly hit his head. 

"You must be hungry." Merlin murmured, huddling down by the fire again. The prince follwed him and relaxed his tense muscles in the heat. Though it was an early summer and warm enough outside the castle's walls contained an unnatrual chill. He sniffed the ripe fruit, wallowed in its fresh odour. After devouring half the flesh Arthur gathered the courage to drill further into his host's story. 

"If the legend is a fraud and the curse never existed..." he opened, carefully. "Then what lurs in the castle?"

Instead of answering immediatly Merlin stabbed the fire again. The flames danced higher for only a heartbeat, making the shadows come alive around them. 

"What is your name, Sir Knight?" he asked.

Arthur hesitated briefly. For a moment he was tempted to tell Merlin a pseudonym but decided against it. His feeling told him to trust this boy.

"Arthur. Arthur Pendragon of Camelot."

"Camelot. That's far from here. You've had quite a journey."

"You haven't answered my question. What is in the castle?" Arthur wasn't going to let this go and Merlin must have felt his determination. The boy sighed heavily as if he was giving up.

"It's her. The witch who cursed the kingdom."

"But there is no curse. You said so yourself."

"No. There is no sleeping princess, I said. And the curse was most probably a bargain between her and the king."

"A bargain?" Arthur echoed sceptically.

"Yes. You've seen the letters in the study. His brother despised him for what he'd done. For a prosperous reign he sold his subjects to the devil herself."

Merlin's eyes, glued to the fire before, wandered towards Arthur and fell on his frowning face. 

"What did she want with them?" the prince asked.

The boy shrugged. 

"I read everything in the study but even the king didn't seem to know. But somewhere in his personel notes he spoke of horrible moans and screams that could be heard from the tower, where she resided. And whoever got in never came out."

A shiver ran down the prince's back when his head started to rattle with all possible ways of how the sacrifices had met their ends. The thoughts got more unpleasent by the second and another puzzle occured to him.

"If the witch promised to help the kingdom prosper, how did it die?"

"I can't be sure. But from what I gathered the contract was only made with the last king. When he died it ran out. Maybe the crops and lifestock started to wither and people flet to survive. Maybe she killed the rest of the family. Nobody could possibly know what really happened. But you wanna know what I believe?"

The prince stared at Merlin expectantly. 

"I believe the witch still needs sacrifices. Whatever she was up to." Merlin revealed his thoughts balefully.

Slowly it dawned on him what Merlin was trying to tell him. His eyes went wide pushing his brows up. 

"You believe she planted the legend."

The boy nodded profoundly, his blue orbs boring into Arthur's.

"And over hundreds of years brave fighters have come to meet their ends at her hands."

Arthur was baffled by this realization. She trapped her prey with a cowardly act and he had almost fallen for it. His lungs let go of the air they still had been holding and he felt like lying down for a moment and just breath.

"I can't believe it." he said. "I haven't questioned that quest at all. Just walked into the trap like a fool. And if I hadn't met you I-" A thought popped up in his mind. "I've met you. You live here." 

His upper body shot up so fast Merlin scrambled backwards.

"Why do you live in a castle that's occupied by an evil witch? How have you even survived until now?"

The questions simply tumbled out of him and Arthur didn't understand how he didn't think of that when they met in the study. The boy, still silent with surprise, was not likely to match the powers of this demon. 

"I don't...I uhm..." Merlin stammered while he was sitting up properly, pulling himself out of stunned silence. He seemed unsure of how to begin. Fiddling with a shrivelled corner of his cloak his eyes shifted on the floor as if it was holding the answer. "It's actually a short story. Not very interesting."

"Humor me." Arthur insisted.

Merlin's story turned out to be indeed short. It was not unlike others he had heard when his father held court and humble farmes came on their knees to seek the king's help. One day his peaceful village had been under attack by raiders who took most of their winter supplies. They returned a week later taking the rest. And when there was nothing to take anymore they had taken the lifes of those who hadn't flet. On that day Merlin ran into the forest leaving his parent's dead bodies to rot because fear had consumed him. When he finally was forced to stop running the mountain was a lot closer and with it the castle.  
The first night he had fallen unconcious in the entrance hall. The second night he couldn't sleep, too scared of the noises and corpses around him. The third night he had seen the witch wander. But she never came for him. He had no explanation to give other than that he was of no interest to her in whatever she did up in her tower. Still he didn't dare to try his luck and follow her. Instead he hid in here. The kitchen being one of the furtherest rooms from the tower-entrance.

The prince felt a wave of sympathy rushing through his chest when the boy finished.

"How long has it been?" 

Merlin shrugged.

"About a year? I'm not counting the days."

"And you never tried to leave? Find another...uh...less creepy place to stay?"

"Where would I go?" Merlin answered with a small laugh. "There's no place for me but here. It is warm, the forest provides food, I got a roof that shields me from the rain and no raider would ever come here. But..."

"But?"

The boy threw another log into the fire and made sparks fly. Wood cracked loudly.

"But it wouldn't be so bad if the place was purged of it's curse. For the benefit of everybody."

Arthur nodded, slightly impressed by Merlin's guts. He could smell a challenge lying in those words.

"Yes, that would be something worth fighting for, I guess."

It was the first time that Merlin's smile felt genuine.

* * *

Night had fallen over the course of the last hours and when they finally left the kitchen the darkness in the hallways filled them like thick fog. The meek candle Merlin had taken to guide the way only reached a few feet until its light was swallowed by the blackness. An eerie silence streched along the corridors and flattened out into the halls they crossed. Only their footsteps and the rustling of their cloth were a distraction, echoing from wall to wall while creating the impression of the castle growing wider and higher around them. Arthur was constantly turning his head, following the shadows peeling out of the darkness, awakened by Merlin's flame, and then melting into it as soon as they passed them. The feeling of stares boring into his neck had returned as soon as they left the cozy safety of Merlin's place. But with the darkness being as unpenetrable as it was he would never spot anything following them. And Arthur absolutely despised the feeling of not knowing, not seeing, not being prepared. To destract himself he went over the plan they had come up with. 

The highest tower - a place the witch hardly ever left according to Merlin - was situated at the northern peek of the castle, facing the mountain. Arthur remembered his view of the castle from the edge of the forest and saw it in his mind, peeking over the roofs, glowing in the evening sun. There was not much to their plan, if he had to be honest. The witch was probably waiting for him, havig felt his arrival already. But she would wait until her prey came to her, expecting to find a harmless, sleeping girl. He would enter the room, as if he didn't suspect any different, luring her in. When she attact him, he would fain suprise and distract her while defending himself. She must be strong if she could overcome all those self-proclaimed rescuers. Maybe she enchanted them. He had to be careful. If everything went like they planned Merlin would use the silver-dagger Arthur had equipped him with to stab her from behind. Directly through the heart. With a little luck, though Arthur didn't really want to depend on being lucky, they would end her cursed life and purge the kingdom from this bane. And he would return to Camelot having fulfilled a quest nontheless taking his rightful title as a knight and finally being crowned Prince of Camelot and heir to the throne. He had already offered Merlin to accompany him back to Camelot and get a position in the castle. As an answer the boy had only smiled and ducked his head, probably too embarressed to take the offer. But he would come around, Arthur was sure of it.

"That's it." Merlin suddenly whispered and held the candle higher.

It illuminated a wooden door, covered by the beautiful carving of the kingdom's crest. Though it was worn he could still make out the profile of two does facing eachother, joined at the tip of their beaks. Their wings were raised high above their heads encircling the letter 'E'. 

"E for Emerald." Merlin explained. "People think this was the name of the forgotten land."

Arthur nodded then put his palm on the door and pushed. He found himself in a circular room. The stone-stairs rising to his right spiraled up into the darkness, reminding him of the climb that lay before them. Merlin shuffled in behind him and closed the door quietly.

"And you are sure the stairs are capable of carrying us?"

Merlin had already taken the first few steps and turned around on those words.

"Well, I've never been up there. But she decents them occasionally, though she might be flying. I've never seen it."

The answer didn't calm Arthur's worries but his companion was already in motion again and he was in danger of being left behind in the shadows. 

"But of one thing I'm sure..." he heard the boy mumble.

"What?"

Merlin kept on walking but looked back down slightly illuminating Arthur's face by doing so.

"If the stairs are stable enough to carry one of us then it would be me."

It took Arthur a few seconds to process what had been said. And when he did he stopped in his tracks by suprise.

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

Only a small laugh answered him.

* * *

"How many steps were that?" Arthur spit out under his breath while trying to get the air back into his lungs. His armour had become heavier by the minute, making every step harder than the last. Slumping against the wall he stared at Merlin who was pressing one of his enormous ears against the only door. The boy held his finger up, obviously signaling him to be quiet. Arthur had to get a hold of himself not to slap him over the head. In Camelot he would alow no one to treat him in such a respectless mannor. But the situation was much diffrent now and Merlin had been rather helpful since they met.  
After a few more seconds the boy stepped away from the door and whispered.

"I think I can hear her." 

He waved Arthur over and pointed to the lock. The prince pressed against the little hole and strained his ears to pick up any noise. At first there was only his own heartbeat loudly in his head, making it almost impossible to concentrate. He tried to listen in between, to picture the room behind the door and what a witch could sound like. And slowly, very slowly a sound crept into the space left by his drumming chest. A scraping, reminding him of the uncomfortable noise of nails dragging over rough stone. It was accompanied by a rustling and rattling, a wheezing he just couldn't place. 

"What is this?"

"I think, it's her breathing. Some nights, when she was wandering about the hallways, I could hear her. That was when I knew I had to get into the servant's paths and hide."

Arthur shuddered, trying to imagine what a creature could look like when it was sounding like that. With a shake of his head he swiped the doubts away, strechting out his arm to draw Merlin further behind him. 

"Alright. Listen. When something in there goes horribly wrong, before or after your attack, you run. You run from this tower, from this castle and from these cursed lands."

"But-"

"No protest. If I die here there needs to be someone left who tells the world to not believe in the legend anymore. Someone to save all those other brave souls out there. Do you understand?" Arthur posed the question with a hint to a threat in his voice. Merlin obvioulsy wanted to protest again, shaking his head slightly while his eyes grew bigger. But Arthur's grip on his arm got stronger. It must hurt him and Merlin knew that there was no point to argue. So the shake turned into a nod. Though not really believing him Arthur let himself be assuered by the gesture.

"Then this is it. Hide until I have her complete attention." With these last words Arthur grabbed the door-handle. He was sure it would creak awefully when he pressed it but he wouldn't give it the chance to destroy his momentum of suprise. With two long strides, his sword already drawn, he entered the room. Ready to fight. 

After the long time in the dark, only warm candle-light to chase it away, it was hard to have his eyes adjust to the pale illumination of the moon. The room was comepletly circular, the wall only broken by a window of exceptional proportions opposite to the the entrance. The moon appeared to send his rays direktly in through the gaping opening, in which no glass was left to shut out the elements. Witches mustn't get cold then, Arthur thought. There was not much to the furniture. Everything he could see in the sparse light was broken and eaten by worms, but for the four poster bed to his left. Only one of the posters had splintered, the rest was still holding the rotten rags of something, that must have been once a velvet curtain. The prince took in all this in a matter of mere seconds. This and the fact that the bed was empty.  
Arthur grabbed his sword tighter. He was confused. Why should such a powerful witch hide? From what Merlin told him she could probably snap his neck with a wink of her finger. Maybe she was playing with him. Maybe she was already outside killing Merlin. And then he heard it. The scratching sound of nails on rough stone. Breathing so rusty and ragged her lungs must be covered with the dust of hundreds of years. And a rattling of metal in the air, that he couldn't identify.  
Arthur lifted his head and the screaming started. 

The thing that dropped down from the ceiling could only be described as human in the most farthest of definitions. Its scream pierced his ears painfully and Arthur only escaped the claw-like nails because of his long trained reflexes. He fell to the side and rolled away, coming to his feed next to the bed. The witch's shadow stood still for a moment, growling at him. Her stance was wide, her arms spread. Arthur tried to take in her appearance but it was impossible to make out her face in the semi-darkness next to the door. There was a mop of long, black, tousled hair around her head. The poor rags hiding her awefully thin body could have been a dress once but obviously she didn't take care of her wardrobe either. Arthur was confused about what he saw but he had no time to dwell on it because another scream formed in the witch's throat and he knew to brace for another attack. She crashed into him with force, ramming his back into the bed's headboard. He shouted out of pain but also to stop the ringing in his ears. Her face was so close now that he could smell her ragged breath. It was foul. Wet and heavy like the odour steaming from a battlefield on a seering summerday after the fight. Arthur choked, desperate not to breathe in. The spindly arms that held him contained impossible strenght though they appeared as if they would break with a light blow. Hauling up his foot the prince crushed it down on her ribs. She seemed suprised by the counter-attack, her hands loosening a bit of tension. Arthur took the opportunity to diliver a second kick and lash out with his sword. In the shadows he couldn't be sure if he had wounded her but her pained howl and inward curling body told him enough. Ignoring the agony in his back he scrambled over the mouldy mattress, falling of the edge on the other side. He heard a crash behind his back and turned around in time to see the bed being shoved towards him. Arthur dove to the right, barely missing his body being crushed under the heavy wood. 

Trembling he pushed away from the floor. He hadn't lost his sword yet but he wondered if Merlin had already abandoned him. It wasn't looking good. Sweeping the sweat out of his eyes he realized that he was now in front of the window, the white light of the clear full-moon shining a halo on his blonde hair. It was not the best spot to be in but he had nowhere else to go and his enemy was already closing in. The witch seemed reluctant to come into the light and Arthur already felt hope, having found a weakness in her. It didn't hold long. Her growling changed into an aggressive hiss, making her appear like a wild animal. She crawled into the light revealing the grey skin on her arms, streched thin like parchment over her joints. Her hands were not as big as Arthur first thought. It was the long grown nails, cracked and yellow and caked with dirt which created the illusion. Her whole appearance was so frail, so utterly pathetic that Arthur wavered in his decision. He let his sword sink, the tip hitting the floor and freeing a clear singing of metal. The witch's head shot up on the sound and he knew he had made a mistake. With a powerful jump she attack him another time, howling like a wolf. Arthur had barely time to raise the blade when her legs suddenly engulfed his lower body while her hands took his neck and head in a death-grip.

Time froze.

Slowly Arthur felt his body being crushed little by little in the tight clamp of her bony frame. It felt like his legs and hip-bones were starting to break in several places, the agony of it being almost unbearable. His skull started to crack unter her fingers. It was being squashed like an egg while her other hand squeezed his windpipe until no breath could be drawn into his lungs anymore and the pressure of the trapped air fogged Arthur's mind. But all he could do was stare into the creature's face, being able to observe it for the first time. He saw ash-coloured skin drawn over high cheekbones and cut by badly healed scars. Her mouth was not so much a mouth anymore, maybe had been once, but now only showed an uneven whole in her face filled with black teeth, charp like fangs. It was ugly in the most horrid ways he could describe and still Arthur was sure that she had been beautiful once. The green eyes, though washed out by a milky layer, were telling him about the woman who once occupied the tattred body. They told him that she had been human a long time ago. That maybe there was still something left, but burried so deep nobody could bring it back to the surface. It was too late for her and when her milky eyes widned, showing a sudden spark of suprise and human-life she knew it too. Her hands and legs loosened around him, letting Arthur take in the most needed gulp of air. As his vision started to clear again he could see the hole of her mouth stretch to the sides. To his utter shock he realized that she was smiling. It crinkled her eyes, cutting laugh lines into the scarred cheeks. For a brief moment she seemed to return to the woman she once was and when her head started to fall backwards and she wheezed out her last breath he could hear her say one word:

"Finally."

In a confused haze Arthur felt the witch's dead-weight drag him to the floor. Without thinking he spun around pushing the limp body away. Through the windowframe the creature fell, Arthur's sword being drawn from her rotten flesh by the motion. The blood that covered the blade was almost black. It had been pushed right through her stomach when she had jumped on him but Arthur was sure that the wound didn't kill her. His silver dagger was still protuding from her back, catching the moonlight as she tumbled down the high stretched walls of the tower.

And then he saw it. 

Leaning against the window-frame, still catching his breath, the prince saw them. All those vanished, missing men and what was left of them. What Arthur observed down there was more than a pile, it felt to him like a mountain of shattered bones. Wedged into eachother he couldn't destinguish between them. They formed a white mass so enormous that the reflected moonlight illuminated plants and trees around. Here and there in between a rusty blade gleamed and some of the bones were still covered in pieces of clothing, furs and chainmail. The further his eyes wandered to the top the more recent the remains became. Skeletons which hadn't fallen apart yet and crushed by the weight of others were clad in full armor, while a few furtherest to the top appeared to still have hair remaining in dead skin covering their skulls.  
The shock of the image let the blood rush through Arthur's ears, tuning out every other noise. And so it took him several seconds to notice that the witch's body hadn't hit the pile. She was hanging, restrained in the air, still swinging back and forth against the wall. Swinging on a chain around her ankle. While Arthur numbly followed the metal links up to the window and inside the first and last word the witch hat uttered in his presence came back to him. Why 'finally'? The chain found its end behind the splintered remains of the destroyed bed, bolted securely into the wall. Before he could form another coherent thought it burst out of the stones and rushed towards the window. And the witch fell the last meters finding her final resting place in the mountain of bones. 

Finally.

And finally it dawned on Arthur who he should've feared from the beginning. A young boy living in the ruins of a lost kingdom, surrounded by the dead, under the threat of an evil witch without ever being harmed. Without being afraid.  
When he turned back, facing the room, Merlin stood in its middle. But it was not the boy he had met only hours ago in the study. He had changed, aged. Standing taller than before, reaching Arthur's height he had the sharp face of a young man now. His black hair curling slightly longer at the tips of his ears, though his lips were still as plump. But these changes were nothing in comparison to his eyes. Their light blue colour was gone, replaced by an intimidating but beautiful golden glow. Arthur could feel it now, the power which was streaming from the man in waves. Hitting his chest in tune with his heartbeats. Only when Merlin took a step in his direction he found his voice again.

"What...why...?" Arthur stammered, raising the stained sword against him. The man smiled.

"Because it was time to get rid of her." he answered calmly.

Hundreds of years had passed for Merlin in loneliness, buried in the ruins of the kingdom he had once helped succeed. Merlin hadn't minded. He craved the isolation. It helped him focus on the broadening of his mind, the growing of his powers. The last king had been a fool to strike the deal with him, seeing his time was so limited as a mortal. Merlin's had been too, back then. He had worked hard to overcome death and even when he had found a way to lengthen his life it had not been for eternity. When the dead bodies of healthy men started to pile in his tower he had begun to use the court sorceress to get rid of them. Morgana had been her name. She was a thing of exceptional beauty as well as arrogance. It had been easy to twist her mind to his will. And over time the monster she had become on the inside showed its traces on the outside. For years he had been planning to finally dispose of the shell which had almost nothing human left inside. But then again she was his only company.  
Now that her body lay finally broken, mixed with the leftovers of her meals he felt free. The weight of his trials had fallen off his shoulders. The witcher had found what he had been seeking for centuries. Finally.

Merlin told Arthur just as much. The prince stood frozen, feet rooted to the floor and the blade still in his hand as if it could protect him. 

"What have you been seeking?" Arthur growled. His hands were shaking.

"The lifeforce of those men would always only supply me for a few years, a decade or two. I could fool death but only for so long. But you are diffrent." Merlin explained. The glowing in his eyes became even more intense.

"How?" It was harder for him to talk now.

"You are a child of magic, isn't that right?"

Arthur's head began to spinn, his vision blurring. He shook it but the focus went off again.

"My mother...she was dying...a sorceress helped so I could be born..." he mumbled.

Merlin nodded, obviously satisfied with the answer.

"You were born on raw magic, bound to the powers of the elements. You can not use it, but it's inside you. A flow that'll never dry out..."

The words were echoing in his head. Merlin's voice felt soothing. Arthur felt the sword slipping, leaving his hands. He wanted to tighten them around the steal. He needed to stay alert. He must get away from this treachours creature. The blade clattered to the floor. A warm hand touched his cold cheek. It was comforting. Slowly he sunk to his knees, craning his neck to never lose contact with those golden eyes.

"So, Arthur Pendragon of Camelot," 

Merlin's voice dripped like sweet honey into his mind. It made him long for more. 

"Will you stay with me?"

* * *

_There is a legend about a princess cursed by an evil witch to sleep for eternity in a kingdom far far away._

_And about a golden prince who went to lift it and never returned._

_His tragedy has become a children's song being sung in the streets and fields on sunny days. Even now you can hear them outside, dancing and chanting._

_"The witch is dead! Long live the witcher and his pet!"_


End file.
